Author's Note: Annnnnd… I decided to continue it…
Chapter Two
Lucifer slunk down, trying to make his 6'3" frame less of a beacon above the writhing crowd at Lux. For once he wasn't reveling in his ability to be the center of attention in any room – he wanted nothing more than to be invisible at that moment.
A woman's rather large hair bounced to the left, giving him an unobstructed view of Detective Decker, standing on her toes trying to catch sight of him. He ducked behind another woman's even larger breasts and angled himself for an escape.
He'd been avoiding her for three days.
Ever since that moment of bloody word vomit on the roof, where he acted like a sniveling little brat whining about how mummy didn't love him. Just the memory of it made him want to bury himself in booze and women until the extremes he could take debauchery to erased that moment of vulnerability.
Unfortunately, Detective Decker didn't have that same "live and let bloody live" attitude and had been hounding him since.
"Nice work there," he leered, dodging around a groping couple by the bar before slipping toward the elevator.
He made it inside a moment later and saw an exasperated Decker on the opposite side of the bar glaring at him as the doors started closing.
"Oh, Detective!" He called with a little wave. "So sorry I missed you! Something to take care of!"
Feeling better to be out of sight once the doors were fully shut, but maybe a dash guilty, the false smile dropped from his face and he ran a hand through his hair. For someone who thrived on appearances, he was getting tired of the upkeep.
How long would he have to start on his end of the bargain? Time wasn't something God was short on so maybe he could drag it out for a while. Just a couple months… or centuries? He tugged on hair before letting his hand drop to his side. But that would mean living knowing she was out there somewhere. Out there probably doing things dear old dad couldn't even imagine. How could he go on as he had been when she was out there free to do as she pleased? Knowing she could be around any corner?
Pushing those thoughts to the side, as he had so, so many times before, he watched his feet as the elevator deposited him on his floor, wondering how he could get things back to normal with the Detective.
Lost in thought as he was, he didn't see her - not until he was across the room, blinking blood out of his eyes from the floor.
"Hello, Son. Or should I call you Warden?"
She was wearing the body of an attractive woman with long hair and longer legs in a short skirted business suit. But he could see through the mask, the dark fury in her eyes, the madness in her smile. While Dad was all control and creation, she was entropy, encroaching chaos. Like bookends to the universe.
"Mum…"
Unfamiliar pain rolled through him as she was suddenly standing over him, jerking him from the floor by his arm like a ragdoll. Why did it feel like- His eyes widened as he realized Detective Decker was in the building. Apparently, that was close enough to make him vulnerable. He knew Mum could harm him regardless of The Chloe Effect, but his healing would be halted. Even that wasn't his biggest worry - the damage he'd sustain while the Detective was nearby he could deal with, but if she continued her hunt for him, if she came here…
"I don't know why you're bleeding, but I like it," she said, with a wide smile. "It's a good look on you."
He wanted to reply, his mind stumbled over witty retorts and reached for familiar snark and confidence, but all he could remember was before - the ripping, the breaking, the snapping of crumpled feathers and the continuous laughter mixed with his own screams – and he couldn't breathe, let alone talk.
She threw him onto the bar, sending glassware flying and overlaying his surprised gasp with the sound of shattering. She jumped up, one heeled foot barely touching a stool, the other lightly pushing off of the bar top, before landing squarely on his torso. One heel slid neatly between two ribs upon impact, the other digging into his hipbone painfully. He gritted his teeth to prevent any more sound from escaping.
"It's been so long little Light Bringer," she cooed, grabbing a nearby piece of glass. "I missed you most of all."
Her beatific smile was punctuated by the sharp sting of glass biting into his jaw.
"Even beautiful in this human approximation. I bet you're hiding something though. A face you don't let this world see? Why Lucifer? Why hide your true self? Embarrassment perhaps?"
The glass bit through skin down to bone as she dragged it along his face.
"Maybe I should remove the mask? Stop your hiding? A good mother would help her son accept himself for who he really is, wouldn't she?"
Who he was? Who was he? He was Lucifer bloody Morningstar! He was the Devil! He wasn't some scared, naïve little angel anymore.
"As if you'd know anything about being a good mother," he snarled, grabbing her wrist and jerking while he twisted his body.
She lost her balance on him, obviously still not very familiar with the human casing she wore, but managed to land on her feet nonetheless.
"Oh, so you do have a little fight left in you," she said from her crouch, looking at him from a curtain of hair. "Good."
In a flurry of movement he couldn't quite follow he found himself smashing into the glass shelving behind the bar (dammit, he'd just gotten it repaired from his spat with Amenadiel!), the sharp sting of glass biting into his back only momentarily before he was flying over the bar, landing face first on the floor and sliding a few feet to a stop.
The sound of heeled steps, crunching glass underfoot, drew nearer and nearer.
Was this fear? Or a concussion? He wasn't terribly familiar with either so couldn't tell which was making his mind so slow yet erratic. Memories of before overlapped the present and his breath had become almost a pant by the time a hand latched around his wrist. She was walking then, dragging him as she kept talking in a maddeningly cheery voice. Warm night air from the balcony brushed across his face and reminded him of something he couldn't quite place…
"While you might not have bothered to visit your dear mother in Hell, I saw quite a bit of that demon of yours. She was very creative - I must give credit where credit is due," she said, stopping and lifting him by his arm again. "I'm looking forward to trying some of her methods on you. But first…"
She paused then, eyes roaming his face before looking in his eyes again, a soft look there that made something clench inside of him.
"Mother's want to witness important moments in their children's lives. There was one moment I missed out on, that I desperately wanted to see. He," she spat the pronoun. "Thought I'd make the moment worse. That'd you'd think it was my idea if I was there."
A hand came up and cupped his face in a mockery of love before her thumb dug into the split in his eyebrow. He flinched away and she laughed, bringing her thumb to her lips and licking the blood off.
"Your most defining moment, and I wasn't there. So, I'd like to recreate that moment as best I can in this situation, so you can see your mother's joy. We'll have time for the other games later, but for now…"
Then he was flying.
Ah, so that was the memory he'd been reaching for earlier. He hadn't flown in… He couldn't remember how long – wouldn't let himself think on it lest he regret any part of his decision. But in that moment, the freedom…
Then he saw her smiling as gravity caught and he remembered his wings were but a memory and a scar now.
"Let mother see you fall, Lucifer."
